


Define Dancing

by Lindira



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindira/pseuds/Lindira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sensitive wrists and opportunistic teasing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Define Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> For the following prompts on Tumblr: "surprise discovery of an overly-sensitive body part" and "getting fucked over a desk or table".

It started without Dorian or Aeric even realizing it. Aeric would touch him, just there, to comfort him and soothe his nerves. Aeric's thumb caressed the inside of his left wrist in slow circles, and Dorian would calm, his body warming by little increments.

It took him stupidly long to realize they almost always had sex soon afterwards.

There was never a gasp when Aeric touched Dorian there, no shudder or shake or shiver. It was a slow build, a flush in his cheeks that spread up to his ears and down to his neck, his chest, his fingers, his toes. It was a distracted mind that fixated instead on that perfect line of olive tattoo on Aeric's lower lip, begging him to claim it with his own mouth. A quickening of breath. A tingling of skin.

Shameful, really, how such a chaste touch could unravel him so completely. It really was quite embarrassing.

Dorian thought Aeric hadn't noticed. His wrist was almost always covered, after all, and it was such a small, subtle thing. Surely the elf could not have noticed the effect this occasional act had upon him.

And yet, of course, this was Aeric, and of course he noticed. There came a night, sometime after Adamant, when they were alone in their quarters. Dorian had been arguing aloud with his book when Aeric wordlessly crossed the room from his desk and began unbuckling the covering on his left arm. Dorian blinked at him, so puzzled that he stopped his rant mid-sentence. When Aeric finally pulled the covering off, he bent to press his lips against the inside of the wrist. Tickling tingles scattered up his arm.

" _Amatus_?" Dorian murmured.

"Hm?"

"What…" His cheeks began to warm. "What are you doing?"

"Trying something."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Trying- ahh…" Aeric flicked out his tongue against the spot. The heat spread rapidly this time, Dorian's breath hitching in his chest already. "You devil," Dorian accused, his voice rumbling with barely contained arousal. "You knew."

"I suspected," Aeric answered with a crooked smile. His tongue slid across the narrow bit of skin. Now came the shiver, the shudder. Dorian let a tiny moan escape through parted lips. "Is that why you wear the sleeve?"

Dorian laughed. "No, the sleeve is not to protect my delicate wrists from lascivious elves such as yourself."

Aeric's eyes glinted with mischief. "Lascivious, am I? Only for you." His teeth grazed the inner wrist, and Dorian let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

Dorian pulled at him then, mouths crashing into one another with no small amount of urgency. With an few audible rips, Aeric's clothes were on the floor in seconds.

ooo

The ball at the Winter Palace promised to be a predictably dull event, the Orlesians all consumed with their backstabbing and plotting. Dorian approached the gates to the main courtyard with Aeric, who was to await his cue to make his grand entrance.

"Nervous?" Dorian asked.

Aeric shrugged. "Not particularly. Perhaps about the dancing."

Dorian gave a little smile. "You'll do fine. I daresay you'll dance better than half those nobles in there."

"Thanks to you," the elf said, returning his smile with one that only touched his eyes. He reached a hand out to touch Dorian's arm affectionately, fingers slipping beneath the glove to find his bare left wrist. Aeric's thumb drew a tiny circle on Dorian's skin before releasing him, the touch there and gone too quickly for any bystanders to notice.

A warm blush rose to Dorian's ears, and he raised an eyebrow. Did Aeric forget, or was he trying to tease?

After the entrances and the initial formalities of the ball, Dorian lost track of Aeric, the party having split up to investigate the assassination attempt. He stood around the garden with a glass of wine, listening to gossip and making mental notes whenever he heard anything particularly interesting.

When he saw Aeric leaving the Empress' handmaidens and coming towards him, Dorian brightened, though he tried not to show how glad he was to see the elf. As they chatted, Dorian thought he saw a brightness in Aeric as well.

"Don't wear yourself out mingling," Aeric said in a low voice, the edges of his lips curling into the smallest of smiles. "I expect a dance before this is over."

Dorian's heart skipped a beat, a strange phenomenon that seemed to happen sometimes when Aeric was being particularly charming. "Dancing with the evil magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais?" Dorian replied, his voice too jaunty. "How shocking."

Aeric looked as if Dorian had challenged him, his gaze intense. "They'll live."

"You say that now," Dorian purred, the idea of dancing openly with Aeric in front of everyone both tantalizing and terrifying. "If you can find me ten silk scarves, I've got a dance that will  _really_  shock them."

Aeric's smile widened. "Is that a promise?" His hand took hold of Dorian's again, just long enough for his thumb to circle the inner wrist a few more times through the thin leather of his glove before letting go.

Another flush of heat spread across Dorian's entire face, making his breath hitch for only a second.

Definitely teasing. That bastard.

Before Dorian could scold him, Aeric strolled away with a wink, leaving the mage standing there, clutching his wine glass with one hand and trying very hard not to let his mind wander.

It didn't work, of course. The bells tolled to call everyone to the main hall for a grand waltz, and Dorian followed, his face still warm. And as he watched Aeric take the Grand Duchess' hand and lead her down the steps, Dorian felt a strange pang of jealousy. It was idiotic. The dance was nothing, a show of power and ability for the Orlesians' benefit. Politics, nothing more. Yet Dorian watched with an odd mixture of pride and envy, wishing that he was the one gliding across the ballroom in Aeric's arms.

He said none of this to Aeric, not when they explored the backways of the palace, nor when they were back amongst the ball's guests, mingling and playing the Game. It was a struggle to remain focused on the task. He carried with him a thin string of constant arousal and wistfulness, made worse by Aeric's quiet teasing. Every time the elf came by, even if they hardly exchanged words, Aeric would pause to brush his fingers against Dorian's left wrist. Each touch stoked the burning embers of his wanting, until Dorian finally caught Aeric's arm as he moved to leave him.

"Stop that," Dorian rumbled, his voice more pleading than irritated.

Aeric blinked in mock surprise. "Stop what _, ma'nehn_?"

Dorian gave a disapproving grunt. "Don't play coy. You know very well what you're doing to me, damn it."

"Is it working?" Aeric managed to keep a straight face, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"As if I would come undone from such a miniscule gesture," Dorian said with a roll of his eyes. "You're merely being… distracting. Don't you have more important things to do? Keeping the Empress from getting herself murdered, perhaps?"

Aeric shrugged. "I have the situation in hand." His fingers brushed Dorian's wrist again. The mage shivered. "As I have you."

"Smart-ass."

"One of my finer features, or so you keep telling me." Aeric drew close, almost too close for propriety's sake. "If you truly want me to stop, I will. Do you?"

Dorian smirked and shook his head. "But mark my words: you're going to be in for it when this is all over."

"Oh, I'm counting on it," Aeric chuckled, ultramarine eyes still glittering. "As you were, Dorian."

Dorian watched Aeric walk away, eyes lingering too long on his smart ass. The evening seemed interminable. Dorian's mind flooded with vivid images of tearing Aeric's expensive uniform off of him.

By the time Aeric had finally outmaneuvered the Grand Duchess in her political machinations, Dorian didn't much care who was in charge of Orlais anymore. Aeric's furtive touches hadn't done much individually, but all together? There was little else that Dorian could think about but the warmth of Aeric's mouth, the firmness of his ass, the cry of his voice when he came close to climaxing.

Dorian tried to think of something else. Anything else, lest he embarrass himself in public. Something preferably gross and unappealing. Himself in Solas' hobo pajamas. Ah yes, better.

With the Empress saved and Orlais united - for now, at least - Dorian went in search of Aeric and found him on the balcony just off the main ballroom. "Let's dance," Dorian told him, two words that spoke little of the hammering in his heart, the fear he had been conditioned to hold in his gut, the thrill of spinning this man he adored in defiance of it all. He allowed himself a rush of trembling pride. No matter who might see them, he would give his  _amatus_  the dance they both so wanted.

As they waltzed, Aeric smiled, his hand slipping down to Dorian's wrist. His thumb slid underneath the hem of the glove once more, lingering in delicate caresses against sensitive skin.

Dorian's eyes fell closed for a moment, letting out a low hum that was dangerously close to a moan. After an entire evening spent wound tight like a lute's string, Dorian wasn't sure how much more he would be able to take of this. "You're a terrible person, Aeric Lavellan," he said with a touch of frustration.

Their footsteps slowed, stopping them just beside a pillar, relatively shaded from view. Aeric removed the glove from Dorian's hand with an elongated pull on the fingertip. "Is that a fact?" the elf murmured, bringing Dorian's wrist to his lips and pressing a kiss firmly upon it. His eyes never left Dorian's gaze, a challenge once more. "I only have the best of intentions."

"And what  _are_  your intentions, oh Lord Inquisitor?" Dorian asked, his voice turning husky at once as Aeric nipped lightly at his wrist. Maker, this was torture… "A mere dance with the evil Tevinter magister would set the nobility ablaze with the scandal. Just imagine if I ripped your clothes from you here on this balcony. Half their heads would implode."

Aeric laughed lightly. "One would hope." His eyes were twinkling again. "Though, I do still have the keys to the back rooms, you know."

A slow grin spread across Dorian's face, his heart bursting with some marvelous, unnamable thing. "Meet you there?"

With a nod, Aeric pulled Dorian into a fierce kiss in reply, teeth grazing his lower lip as they parted.

They left the balcony together, ambling through the grand ballroom and vestibule at an agonizingly slow pace. Every so often, they'd exchange knowing glances, the anticipation just as much a seduction as Aeric's repeated teasing throughout the night.

The door to the library was closed and locked behind them, and Dorian was upon Aeric at once. They moved together further into the library, twirling in a waltz of a different sort as their circling steps sounded across marble floors. Lips and tongues meeting again and again in frenzied lust. Hands grappling, pulling at gloves and waistcoats and trouser laces. Dorian dipped beneath the collar of Aeric's coat, biting down upon sensitive flesh hard enough to leave a perfect purplish mark. Aeric cried out with a gasp, his knees almost buckling. One of his hands fisted in Dorian's hair while the other slipped beneath loosened trousers to stroke Dorian's already hardening erection to fullness.

No words. Only heavy breaths setting a steady rhythm.

After an evening's worth of wanting, Dorian was out of patience. He shoved Aeric up against one of the nearby tables, back facing him. Dorian bent with Aeric, hair pulled to reveal more of his neck, his jawline, his ears. With a growl, Dorian claimed the pointed tip of one ear with his mouth, then let his tongue glide swiftly down to the lobe. As he shuddered, Aeric's breath quickened, panting out in staccato. The mage yanked down on the waist of Aeric's trousers, and then on his own. Heart racing, mind blank save the overwhelming need to feel himself inside this particular man, Dorian cast a grease spell into his hand, warming it just slightly as he coated his fingers with it.

One finger, then two shortly after. Aeric shouted out a cry that rang across the empty library, his back arched, his head thrown back. A glance from Aeric over his shoulder told Dorian he, too, was impatient. With a push, with tandem moans, Dorian plunged himself into Aeric. Hands planted firmly on the table beside Aeric's, Dorian took the lead.

In and out, again, again. They danced. No music save the unabated cries and moans and ragged breaths that echoed around and around the marble chamber. Each sound drove them to quicken their tempo, until their hips slammed together with rough abandon. The force of their movements pushed even the heavy table, mahogany legs creaking on the tiles.

Dorian brought one arm to curl around Aeric, bending him further over the table, changing the angle just so. Aeric's hands gripped the opposite end, his body held up on his elbows, head bowed, slickened hair falling over his face. Dorian slowed just long enough to scrape his teeth lightly over the exposed bit of shoulder peeking out from beneath Aeric's open collar. He peppered his skin with fevered kisses before taking up the rhythm again with panting moans.

Pressure built at a steady pace. Soon… it would be soon. Dorian lowered his hand to enclose around Aeric's hardened length, pumping in time to the beat of their hips. Aeric's knees trembled, almost buckling once more, as one keening cry after another left him. Pleasure rose within Dorian in a crescendo until he, too, could not contain the force of his voice in the ringing chamber. With a final whispered groan of Aeric's name, Dorian came, sight and sound and thought falling away to nothing. At the back of his mind, he heard Aeric cry out one last time, shuddering before him as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

It was several moments before either of them could move. Shakily, Dorian pressed soft kisses onto Aeric's neck and shoulder as he slipped out of him. "I daresay this has been one of the better parties I've ever been to," he purred in Aeric's ear. "In the top three at least."

Aeric turned around, leaning back against the table as he looked up at Dorian. "Only the top three? Such high standards."

"I'm Tevinter," Dorian said with a grin. "Not nearly as many murders or flying cows as I'm accustomed to."

"I stopped a murder tonight," Aeric replied, eyes glowing faintly in the dim moonlight. "Sorry to disappoint."

Dorian kissed him, that warm feeling back in his chest again. "And that's why it's only in the top three."

For a moment, Aeric smiled back at him, but with a glance at the door, the smile began to fade.

With a spontaneous decision, Dorian straightened his clothes, then Aeric's as well. "Come,  _amatus_. Let's not go back just yet." Dorian took Aeric's hand and led him to a spot beside the bookshelves where he pulled him down to sit on the floor. "I rather like our revelry better."

Dorian felt a thrill of triumph at the smile that reappeared on Aeric's face. "Me too," the elf agreed. "I've had enough of people tonight."

Dorian chuckled and raised an eyebrow at him as he pulled Aeric into his arms. "Tired of people, are you? And what am I, then?"

Aeric raised a hand to give Dorian's mustache an affectionate tug. "The exception."

Not knowing what else to do with the aching joy in his heart, Dorian kissed him again, and then again. With distant music flitting into the silent library, Dorian and Aeric held each other, a well-deserved rest at the end of the fullest of evenings.


End file.
